Eyelesbarrow
by Butterfly eye
Summary: Mrs Hudson are going to visit her sister, but she is tired of worrying of her boys. That's is why she hires someone to take care of them, soon they see that she is not a normal housekeeper, but an Eyelesbarrow.


**A/N: I just got this random idea and **_**boom **_**this story appear. I only own this crossover while Conan Doyle own Sherlock Holmes, BBC owns Sherlock and Agatha Christie owns Lucy Eyelesbarrow, Miss Marple and 4:50 From Paddington.**

**Eyelesbarrow**

It was a normal day in Baker Street. John was updating his blog about the time he and Sherlock prevented a robbery of a toy shop (not their best case) and Sherlock was composing his own music. Sherlock hardly looked up when Mrs Hudson came busting in. She looked as angry a nice, old lady could get.

"Mister Holmes! Can you please explain to me why it is a human head in my fridge?" Mrs Hudson rested her hands on her hips and tapped her foot.

"Our fridge is full," Sherlock said like it was obvious (like it was).

John sighed like it was normal (as it actually was) and massaged his temples. He rose from the chair and filled cup of tea that he gave to Mrs Hudson. She took the teacup without a word, but she didn't drink.

"Well, well, that wasn't the reason for me to come anyway, even though I want none of it!" Mrs Hudson took an angry sip of tea before she continued. "My sister is very sick and I have to take care of her for a while, but I cannot go to sleep at night wondering if you two are alright."

John smiled to her and started to say something:

"But Mrs Hudson-"

"Let me finish, my dear! And Sherlock pay attention and sit down!" Sherlock did as he was told (something he rarely did) and looked at her with a bored expression. "I'll be leaving tomorrow and I refuse to come back to head's in my fridge and holes in my wall!"

John coughed and filled a cup of tea for himself.

"That was Sherlock's doing."

Sherlock gave him a look that almost yelled "after all we been through!" but he stayed quiet (very unusual that too).

"What was that head in her fridge for, Sherlock?" John asked while he tapped his fingers on the armrest of the chair.

"For an experiment," Sherlock said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Haven't you done that before?" John asked and tried to remember all the nasty things he had seen in their kitchen.

"Not on one with diabetes," Sherlock said and looked bored out of the window.

"And I neither want to see any of my boys hurt on a case," Mrs Hudson said, "like on that last case, five stitches wasn't it, Sherlock?

Sherlock sighed. He was so sick of hearing that!

"Hardly my fault that man ran with a knife," Sherlock mumbled.

(That was actually that man that tried to rob the toy shop, but Sherlock doesn't like to talk about _that)._

Mrs Hudson ignored him.

"Don't worry, Mrs Hudson, I will keep him out of trouble," John gave her a reassuring smile, but that smile didn't work on her.

"Six stitches, John," Mrs Hudson sat down the tea cup and walked to the kitchen.

She ignored the hands in the fridge and the ears on the table. She sighed when she found a half eaten pizza in the microwave and a frozen pie in the fridge.

"Look at what you two are eating! Nothing, but junk food!" Mrs Hudson took the pizza and the pie under her arms and threw it in the garbage.

Even Sherlock was shocked now, she'd never done that before and they only ate that if Mrs Hudson didn't cook food to them. They both knew none of them were excellent cooks.

"How are you two going to survive without me? Remember boys that I won't be here forever," Mrs Hudson was more sad than angry now.

John bowed his head in shame. He had never thought of that before. Even Sherlock looked ashamed now, like he hadn't thought about that either. A long awkward silent followed, Sherlock was the first to take the word.

"Were are you going with this, Mrs Hudson?" He said after clearing his throat.

"I do not know, Sherlock," she said, shaking her head, "now back to the case, as I said, I am almost afraid to come back to Baker Street from a long trip, afraid to see what is behind the door in 221B, that is why one of my friends are coming tomorrow to make sure none of you do something dangerous."

John frowned. Did he hear right? Had she hired a babysitter? Sherlock seemed to think the same.

"I don't need a babysitter," Sherlock protested and turned on his Mac.

"This discussion is over, boys!" With a last sigh she stormed down the stairs.

The two men met each other glance. They couldn't help laughing.

* * *

It was noon the day after. Mrs Hudson left about an hour ago, but other than that it was like the day before. John was updating his blog and Sherlock was composing. None of the two men reacted when the doorbell rang. John was the first to look up.

"Do want to-" John asked Sherlock, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid.

Sherlock only gave him a glance that said "does it look like it?" He then turned and looked out the window. John sighed and got up. While walking to the door he couldn't help but to think about what Mrs Hudson said the last day. _Remember boys that I won't be here forever. _God, he never thought of that. When he saw the woman behind the door, he almost thought it was one of Mycroft's assistants'. She had this pretty, but anonymous look about her. She wore a black coat over a red blouse and black pants. On her hands she wore black gloves. Her hair was dark brown and braided into a professional braid. She was light tanned. She looked a little surprised, but smiled. She read from a grey notepad:

"Mr. Watson or Mr. Holmes?"

"John Watson. Pleasure meeting you," John said and held out his hand.

She took it and shook it.

"Excuse mine expression at first, I was expecting a child to open the door. I thought Mrs Hudson meant me to babysit children."

"You came thirty years too late for that," John joked.

She laughed and nodded towards the door.

"Can I come in?"

John seemed to wake up from a trance.

"Sorry, of course," he took five steps back and held his hands towards the stairs. "Up here."

"Thank you. By the way, here's my card, in case you need it."

John wasn't sure which way she meant it, but he took it.

_Lucy Eyelesbarrow_

_Professional Housekeeper_

_Educated at Cambridge_

_Everything from babysitting to cleaning_

"Thank you, Miss Eyelesbarrow," John said. "So how much will it cost?"

"It depends; the price depends of the person. Not the work."

John gave her a confused look she ignored. Halfway up the stairs they could hear Sherlock playing violin.

"The Swan Lake," Lucy mumbled, "beautiful. Who is it?"

"Oh, that's Sherlock. He's sort of a musical genius," John said.

"Sherlock Holmes? That does sound familiar," Lucy Eyelesbarrow mumbled to herself.

"What?" John said and turned to her, making them stand face to face.

She shook her head and stroke her finger over the railing. She frowned. She hated dust.

"Probably nothing."

To John's relief the door was closed. He stood in front of the door, hesitating. Not sure how to say it.

"Tell me has Mrs Hudson told you about me and Sherlock?"

She looked confused at him, but shook her head.

"No, she only said I should keep you two out of trouble, which made me believe you two were children."

John nodded and mumbled.

"Okay, good, good."

He opened the door for Lucy, she thanked him. He hadn't noticed before now that she had this aura of confidence and leadership, like she was used to be listened to and heard. When they came into the living room Sherlock had changed song. He stood with his back against them and didn't seem to notice them, but you could never know with Sherlock. Lucy looked around in the room. It was classy and beautiful, but horrible messy and dusty.

_The Firebird, _Lucy thought to herself, _he is very good._

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock didn't respond. John wasn't sure if he even heard him.

"Sherlock!"

He tried again, without result. He was about to turn him around himself when Lucy held him back.

"It's okay," Lucy whispered. "Do you mind if I look around."

"Of course not," John said and sat down in his favorite chair.

She went towards kitchen. One second too late John remembered and cursed to himself. A yell came from the kitchen. He cursed all the way to the kitchen. What an impression they have made; one men sharing a flat, a woman asking her to take care of them, body parts in the kitchen and of course the indifferent musical genius. He rushed towards the kitchen to a shocked Lucy Eyelesbarrow. She had both of her hands on her chest. It was a bag of bloody thumbs on the floor.

"God. Lucy, are you okay?" John said and touched her shoulder.

Lucy smiled bravely and picked up the bag. She looked at the bag with a smile on her face and threw the bag from the other hand to the other.

"Sure. I've got my hobbies, you got yours," she placed the bag of thumbs in his hands and kept looking through the apartment.

"They aren't-" John started.

"Sure, they aren't. Put them back now."

John did as he was told. He watched while Lucy searched through each corner.

"John!" He heard Sherlock call from the living room, but John didn't go.

_He should feel himself how it feel to be ignored, a feeling he isn't used too_, John thought. After the third call, Lucy gave him a look. John smiled excusing to her and walked to the living room.

"Didn't you hear that I called your name?" Sherlock asked irritated.

He sat in his chair with his fingertips pressed together. He opened his eyes when John stood in front of him.

"Sorry, Sherlock, I was busy showing around our guest," it came of rougher than he meant, but Sherlock didn't seem to mind.

"You mean our babysitter," Sherlock said and closed his eyes again.

"Yes, no, maybe," was John's answer, "what do you want Sherlock?"

"I've got a test for you," Sherlock said and grinned.

John sighed. Lately Sherlock had surprised him with tests to test his abilities of deduction. Mostly he got about 4 out of eleven right.

"Now?" John asked.

"Yes, now," Sherlock opened his eyes, he still grinned.

"Well, she studied at Cambridge, seems intelligent, she has an aura of confidence and leadership. I guess she's a born leader," John said.

Sherlock smiled secretive.

"Good, very good, and very obvious, a normal person would be able to deduce that," Sherlock said.

"Last time I checked I was a normal person," John said irritated.

"But even you could have done better than that," Sherlock complained.

Both of them kept quiet when Lucy came into the room.

"I'm about to buy groceries for dinner, any requests?" Lucy asked and studied their faces.

"It's a while ago I've eaten spaghetti," John confessed.

Lucy nodded and wrote it down in her notepad.

"Well, I will leave you two alone then," she smiled to both of them, "pleasure meeting you Mr. Holmes."

She disappeared down the stairs leaving the two men quiet. When the door closed Sherlock began talking.

"After what I can deduce, she had just split up with her husband or fiancée, have just come back to UK from a vacation, is Mrs Hudson's niece and raised and born in London. I can deduce more, but let's keep it simple," as always when Sherlock was deducing he was talking incredibly fast.

"Well, let's see if they are correct," John said, "but she won't be back in a while."

Sherlock turned on his Mac and smiled to John.

"When she comes back tell her not to mess with my things," and with that he didn't say another word.

John only stood there a while, but then sat down and turned on his own Lab top.

* * *

Lucy came back an hour later with to full grocery bags, when John offered to take one of them, she laughed and said she needed a little training. It took her around an hour to make dinner. Under that hour she forbid anyone to disturb her. When she finally was done with dinner and served it to them, they ate in silence. Both Lucy and John thought it would be best to eat in the living room. While they ate John sometimes gave her compliments about her cooking, she thanked and Sherlock remained silent. When it came to the cooking it wasn't a lie, it was one of the best meals he had ever tasted. After another silence Sherlock suddenly started to speak.

"What is your connection to Mrs Hudson, Miss Eyelesbarrow?" He asked kind, but sneaky.

"I'm her niece, I used to visit her here when I was little," Lucy answered, "it has changed a lot since then."

Sherlock looked at John, the look said _1 out of 4_.

"Really? Interesting!" Sherlock said and smiled proudly.

"And you're born and raised in London?" John asked, trying to make the question sound random and normal.

Lucy looked from the Sherlock to John and suddenly she snapped her fingers and pointed at Sherlock.

"Now I remember; you are Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes' little brother!" She said and it looked like she enjoyed the surprised look on their faces.

Sherlock coughed and tried not to look shocked. John was still staring at her with his mouth open.

"How did you know?" Sherlock said and brought the wine glass to his lips.

"I worked for your brother a while ago. I hardly saw him, but I was aware of his special talent, Mr. Holmes," Lucy smiled and raised her glass, "Cheers."

Sherlock and John met each other's glance. Sherlock nodded almost unnoticeable.

"What was your answer to the last question, Lucy?" John asked like nothing had happened.

Lucy laughed and started to collect the empty plates.

"I think that under these circumstances, you can call me Lucy, both of you," Lucy disappeared into the kitchen with the plates.

They could hear the tap be turned on, after six minutes she came back. She was drying her hands with a white towel. They now sat in the living room again. Sherlock sat in his favorite chair with his violin in his lap, John sat in his favorite chair and Lucy sat in a simple wooden chair. John had offered to switch chairs, but Lucy had declined.

"The answer was yes, by the way," she said when they least expected it.

_2 out of 4,_ Sherlock's look said.

"Have you been on vacation lately?" Sherlock asked.

John wondered if Lucy was getting suspicious, but if she was, she didn't show it.

"That's one way of saying it," Lucy said.

Sherlock tapped his fingers on his violin.

"What's the other way?" He asked.

His eyes studied her face.

"It was more as work. I worked as a housekeeper for a rich family in Turkey."

Lucy smiled like she had her private joke she didn't tell them. Sherlock gave John a look. It was not quite as he thought. Then Sherlock's eye froze into Lucy's eyes. Lucy smiled. John coughed.

"Are you married, Lucy?" John asked.

"No. I have been a housekeeper almost my whole life, I hardly meet any men, unless there are my clients."

Sherlock frowned and looked at her hands. John followed his glance; on her finger she had a visible tan line

Lucy rose from the wooden chair and found her coat. She stood at the doorway and put on her gloves. She looked at Sherlock.

"I usually wear my mother's wedding ring at work because it usually scares most men away," she winked to him. "In case you were wondering."

* * *

Lucy Eyelesbarrow had been John's and Sherlock's babysitter for about three days. The days used to be the same; Lucy cleaned, cooked and took care of them. Both of them knew better then taking a case, even though people promised to pay great sums of money for them to take the case. She even ignored John's flirting. In those three days Sherlock was constantly bored. He hardly said or did anything, most of the time he was on his computer or composed music. He was also very strict about Lucy to cleaning his room because he was sure she would mess up his system.

On the fourth day Lucy came to work at 221B Baker Street she found Sherlock playing one of his own pieces on his violin. He didn't seem to see her. The door had been open and John was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's John?" Lucy asked and picked up a book from the floor.

Sherlock didn't bother to stop playing or even look at her.

"He mentioned something about his sister's birthday. He is going to give her a wrist watch."

"Did he tell you?" Lucy asked and flipped in a newspaper.

She was relived John had taken the body parts out of the kitchen, now she wasn't afraid of opening the fridge anymore. Sherlock wasn't very please about that.

"No, it was quite obvious."

They didn't say anything more until Lucy asked a question.

"What do you work as, Mr. Holmes?" She asked.

Sherlock blinked and turned to look at her. Since John's blog got big, mostly everyone knew who he was and what he did.

"I think that under these circumstances, you can call me Sherlock, Lucy," Sherlock said. "I am the world's only consulting detective."

Lucy raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" She asked, but then she saw how rude that question could seem, "I mean you could have been everything; a police man, a scientist, a philosopher or even a teacher, why a detective?"

He grinned and sat down in his chair. His fingertips pressed together. Sherlock nodded towards a chair. She understood the clue and sat down in John's chair, but she felt a little guilty. It was John's chair.

"I think you can answer that question yourself. You are smarter than most people, why did you become a housekeeper? You could have been a scientist yourself, a politician or even a teacher, why a housekeeper?"

Lucy sighed she had heard that question so many times. Her father almost threaten to make her disinherited and her mother almost got an heart attack when they heard she was going to be a housekeeper, even her friends were shocked.

"Because I don't want to be stuck behind a desk forever," Lucy said and leaned back.

Sherlock nodded.

"Go on."

"And because I got no wish of teaching or leading a country, but most of all I'm interested of people, all kinds of people. You learn a lot about people when you clean for them. "

Sherlock closed his eyes and chuckled.

"You know, Sherlock, I think we are quite alike," Lucy said and smiled.

Sherlock looked surprised at her.

"We are both the best in our profession, we both can choose the interesting cases and throw away the boring ones and we both got excellent brains, everything I need to do now is to get a assistant."

Sherlock smiled and Lucy could see that he agreed. Suddenly John came through the door and his eyes widened when he saw Lucy in his chair, but he pretended as nothing. From his shopping bag he found a wrist watch.

"Do you think Harry will like it?" John asked and gave it to Lucy.

Lucy and Sherlock exchanged glances, like they had a secret only they knew about.

* * *

Mrs Hudson came back ten days ago. She'd had come back to two healthy boys and no holes in the walls (well, no one new anyway). Lucy had left with a simple goodbye and they hadn't seen her since.

Sherlock hadn't been very bored lately. He had just solved a case about a giant hound from hell. Now a new case had showed up. Mrs McGillicuddy was round and short lady in her fifties. They sat as usual; Sherlock in his chair, John in his chair and Mrs McGillicuddy on the wooden chair.

"I am sure I saw it, Mr. Holmes!" Mrs McGillicuddy claimed.

"Calm down, Mrs McGillicuddy," John said. "Have you contacted the police?"

Mrs McGilliCuddy seemed rather insulted of his question.

"Of course I did! They didn't find the body, but I am sure I saw a woman being strangled by man in that other train!" She claimed again.

Sherlock laughed.

"Are the police really that horrible? They can't even find a body?"

John gave him a warning look.

"So, Mrs McGillicuddy, which train were you taking?" Sherlock asked.

"I was taking the 4:50 train from Paddington to Saint Mary Mead, Mr. Holmes," the lady said.

Sherlock got his phone from his pocket and checked trains that could pass the 4:50 from Paddington. It was either a slow train to Market Basing or the Walesexpress. He rose from the chair.

"Thank you very much, Mrs McGillicuddy, I will get right onto it," Sherlock promised and almost pushed her to the door.

When she finally left John said:

"Do you really believe her? That she saw a woman being strangled on a parallel train?" John said.

He himself didn't believe in her, she just seemed like a confused old lady.

"If she was a teenager or an old man I wouldn't believe her, but she does not seem the type to make up stories, John," Sherlock said and found his phone again.

"Then how did the murderer hide the body? It would have been much easier to just let it be on the train, and if he didn't, what did he do, just placed the body in a suitcase?" John said disbelieving.

Sherlock sighed and shook his head.

"I've never seen a suitcase that big, John," he said.

Sherlock showed John a picture on his phone, it was a map. It showed where the 4:50 train went.

"The only place the murderer could have pushed the body out of the train is at a turn around the grounds of a place called Rutherford Hall," Sherlock said to him. "Wonder if anybody stays there?"

John eyes sparkled when he remembered an advisement in a newspaper he saw two days. John looked through the stacks of newspapers. The apartment was starting to lose Lucy's touch and sparkle. After Lucy had been done with the apartment it was wonderful and clean, but now the body parts were back in the kitchen again and the apartment hadn't been cleaned since Lucy left. John sighed relived when he found the right advisement.

_Rutherford Hall seeks cook for family reunion _

Proudly John showed it to Sherlock. Sherlock only offered it a glance before he started to write a text.

_Got a job for you, Miss Eyelesbarrow_

_I'll text you the details_


End file.
